


Twofer

by AuKestrel



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-01
Updated: 1999-08-01
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuKestrel/pseuds/AuKestrel
Summary: Originally posted August 1999 | AuKestrelA combination of two challenges issued on Serge: a masturbation challenge and a which-episode-is-most-likely-to-result-in-hot-sex challenge. My first attempt at third person. Not as easy as first person. For me, anyway.





	

Ray smiled, a slightly wicked smile, as he awoke to the realisation that he had a full-blown morning erection. Not the lazy, Sunday morning kind, the half-full kind, the kind that not only gave you time for a fantasy or two while you fed it but required same. No, this had sprung full-bore straining from his unconscious, like that Athena chick from Zeus’ brain, and another smile, slightly self-conscious, followed hard on the heels of the wicked one.

Beside him, Fraser shifted slightly and stirred, turning on his back with a contented Dief kind of murmur, and Ray grinned yet again, this time from simple happiness, as he moved his hands down his belly to tease his cock.

Yeah, he could wake Fraser. Or he could let Fraser sleep, God knew they both needed it after yesterday and last night. Ray felt a slight flush in his cheeks at the memory of last night. And winced as he felt twinges of pain in his left arm and leg, reminders of the bruises and scrapes he’d gotten after his mad, stupid, panicked rush through the window on a motorcycle. The adrenaline rush, the look Fraser had given him, and the unexpected apology/gift of the GTO from his father had conspired to bring them to an empty overlook in the north suburbs, common sense joining Dief in the back seat on the way there. 

The memory of Fraser braced against the hood of the GTO, his beautiful hands even more beautiful pale against the black paint, his jeans pushed down to his thighs, the stars and the city glow, wrung a tiny moan from Ray’s throat, instantly stilled. His right hand stroked up, over, and around the head of his cock while his left hand pulled and pushed his balls away and then towards his cock in a complementary rhythm. 

He indulged in the sensations for a few more strokes, and then let his memory progress to the next point, which oddly involved him fumbling for the bottle of lube that he had taken to carrying in a jacket pocket. Fraser was too damn embarrassed, except in the heat of passion, to admit its existence, but it wasn’t a problem for Ray, so he carried it, thanking God at times that the heat of passion could grab Fraser in a number of unexpected places. He had gotten the top open when Ben looked back over his shoulder and smiled, suggestively, his tongue flickering in and out across his lower lip almost too rapidly for Ray to be sure he had seen it at all. Instead of moving his slicked fingers down to Ben’s ass, he leaned in for a kiss and the fingers found their own way, it seemed, to Ben’s cock. 

Ben moaned into his mouth and Ray moaned right back, and he wasn’t sure now, on the bed, that he hadn’t moaned, but Fraser was still, so probably he hadn’t. He stroked Ben in memory, stroking himself, mmmyeah, Ben’s cock was so different, and so similar, and both the differences and the similarities turned him on, because Ray was that kind of guy, and just about anything Fraser did turned him on anyhow, even his exasperated “Ray, Ray, Ray,” litanies. And Ray jerked reflexively, the mattress bouncing a little, startling himself as his hand twisted up over the head of his cock again.

Come on, Kowalski, you can do this still and quiet, he told himself, his hand momentarily stopping. Let Fraser sleep, Jesus, you been doing this for years, it’s one of the things you do, one of the things you do best. Keep the motion and the noise for the memory.

The memory.

Yeah.

Okay, so the bottle was open, yeah, did that, Ben was kissing him, oh yeah, did that, did that again because Ben could kiss like nobody’s business, and his hand was sliding perfectly on Ben’s cock, did that again too, a few more times for good measure. A little too fast, too soon, back it off, what happened then? Ben moaned. Mmmm. Moaned, “Please,” into Ray’s mouth, which sent Ray’s fingers down past Ben’s balls to that little opening fast, almost too fast, but Ben pressed against his finger. Ray knew that he wanted fast, and hard, and shuddered at the effort that restraining himself here, now, on the bed took. 

Next memory, that ring of muscle loosening almost instantly, he kept forgetting to ask Fraser how he did that. Hopefully there would be a practical, useful explanation that Ray could apply instead of some kind of Inuit throat-singing explanation . . . although the throat singing had its own appeal. He wrenched his mind away from that memory, sternly, back to the GTO, back to Ben braced at the hood, moaning softly in concert with the thrust of Ray’s fingers, because there were two now. 

He stifled the moan that rose in his throat next, a combination of his hand, now, on his cock, and the memory of his hand, then, three fingers inside Ben, his other hand holding Ben at the hip. Ben hissing, “Please!” right before a long deep Mountie moan, right before he slid his cock through his fingers on the way to that perfect, tight opening, and then inside, hot, tight, Ben doing that relaxing thing again.

His fingers paused a moment while he and Ben paused, in the memory, both of them moaning, one of them panting, he thought it was him, but it could have been Ben. Then he pulled out, thrust back in, picking up a rhythm, while his hips on the bed thrust his cock into his hand, then pulled out, unconscious muscle memory of last night, of twenty-odd years of experience at this, oh God. “Love you, Ben,” he moaned softly, then or now, he wasn’t sure, didn’t care, it all held true. Fast, yeah, and hard, Ben pushing away from the GTO with a raw grunt, the sound of a car in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as Ray lost himself in the pounding of his heartbeat, in the hardness of his fist, in the tightness of Ben’s ass, his hand finally finally moving around to grab Ben’s cock. 

Oh, yeah, almost forgot that part, and didn’t know how he could, the way Ben’s ass pulsed around him as Ben came, spattering the hood of the GTO. Insanely Ray hoped that his dad wouldn’t see the spots when they waxed the car as he surrendered, at last, to the sensations, then and now. The guttural moan that broke from his throat was cut short by the very real feel of Fraser’s mouth as Fraser suddenly twisted beside him and with an uncanny precision closed his mouth on Ray’s cock just as Ray jerked into his fist and the air.

“Scare the hell outta me, Fraser, why don’t you,” Ray said, finally, when he could breathe again, a grin belying his words.

“You, ah, aroused the, er, hell out of me, Ray,” Fraser said, pulling him closer for a kiss, his own erection riding Ray’s thigh.

“I was trying to let you sleep, you big dumb Mountie.”

“I don’t want to sleep. I hate being left out of things.”

Ray grinned, and reached over to tug Fraser on top of him. “And I so like it that you’re into things, Frase.”

oOo


End file.
